


learning to breathe

by pendules



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:55:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Alec would die for me." Jace says it like he says everything, like he's absolutely certain.</p><p>Maybe he's been dying all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	learning to breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Small mention of Alec/Magnus and implied Jace/Clary.
> 
> Spoilers for 1x04 and [this sneak peek of 1x05](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r46x258rSco).

"Alec would die for me." Jace says it like he says everything, like he's absolutely certain.

Maybe he's been dying all along.

*

Alec kisses him, once. Kisses him when it's still almost brand new, this fledgling intimacy between them; when looking at the _parabatai_ rune on his forearm still thrills him; before his father sat him down and gave him a rousing speech about his honour and duty as a Shadowhunter, as a _man_ , in a tone he couldn't not listen to; before he really knew what it meant, that it wasn't _allowed_ in even the remotest way. Not just the action, but the _feeling_. The truth that catches painfully in his lungs, that he'll never be able to put words to, that he'll never be rid of. The fact of his own mad affliction.

He's twelve years old and his heart still races when Jace smiles at him, the way he doesn't smile at anyone else, when he touches him, even the most fleeting of touches. He looks and looks, because he can't do anything else, because maybe there's no real harm in just that. He tells himself he's just admiring something beautiful, something given by the Angel that he's grateful to have. Jace is a small sun that makes everything around him glow brighter just with his presence. Or maybe it's only him that sees that.

(He'd wondered once if the ceremony would make it better or worse. Amplify the feeling or tamp it down into something logical, something explainable. There's a clear line drawn between them now — closer than brothers, closer than any human bond could ever be, but never _that_ kind of close — and it should be enough. He should feel selfish for wanting more. But all it does is make it more confusing, more frustrating, more impossible to deny.)

They're warriors and demon killers but they're also _boys_ , for a time, and somewhere in between sparring and general horsing around on the training room floor, Jace gets pinned under him, laughing breathlessly. And he could slip out of his hold easily, if he wanted, he's sure; they're basically the same size and they've been identically trained for the last two years, but they've never been evenly matched and they both know it. (But Jace _had_ to be better, by the sheer power of his will — he's always had a wild, almost dangerous fire in him that no one else could ever claim, a burning need to be invincible, to slay every single malevolent creature that unwisely crosses his path. He wonders if it's because of losing his parents, if a Shadowhunter's real gift is their inevitable tragedy, if suffering is what makes you strong — but he's been in pain since Jace walked into the Institute for the first time and it's never felt like strength.)

But Jace lets him, lets him hold him down by his wrists, doesn't move a muscle, almost like he's anticipating it. And it all feels very far away when they're alone like this — his father's warnings about toeing the line, about doing what you have to do to survive in this world, the stories they've all learnt and he's always had a keen, masochistic interest in about the disasters that befell _parabatai_ who succumbed to their own weakness — they could just be two ordinary mundane boys on a playground. Jace's eyes are wide and bright and unblinking, fixed on his, and his thigh is pressed, warm and firm, between Alec's legs — and then he leans down and presses his mouth to his. 

It's barely a kiss, it lasts for a second or two at most, and Jace is just staring at him, stunned — but he swears that he feels his lips brush against his own right before he pulls away, mortified and quivering with a sudden, deep fear.

He expects him to shove him away or violently throw him off then, expects him to change his mind about everything, but he doesn't. 

He just blinks up at him as if clearing his vision, deciding if that was real or if he imagined it, and then averts his eyes and says, "Um, your mom's probably gonna expect us at dinner soon."

Alec swallows hard and slides off of him until he's sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, digging his fingers into them to stop his hands from shaking.

Jace smoothly pulls himself to his feet and collects the blades lying forgotten on the floor, returns them to their proper places, all without looking at him.

They don't talk about it.

It feels like everyone can see it, though, like that truth's seared into his skin too. It feels like it's fundamentally changed something inside of him. He half-expects his _parabatai_ mark to burn red-hot, like a warning, half-expects it to disappear, like he's not worthy of it anymore.

That's all he wants: for Jace to keep treating him like he's worthy, even if it means fading into his shadow.

*

He's sixteen and Jace is lying in the infirmary, bandaged and heavily drugged-up, a decent chunk of him ripped out by a demon.

Alec's hands are still shaking; he'd washed off the blood, watched it run down the drain, but he can still feel it. Can still feel the dull ache, of his heart, of his rune. Maybe they're the same now.

But he's _alive_. He's never come this close before — he's been lucky if reckless or Alec's always been there to pull him out — but he can feel his heartbeat, steady and sure, like it's inside his own chest.

He reaches out — telling himself he's not going to wake up and even if he does, it's justified, he almost _died_ — and takes his hand on the bed.

He's nodding off in the chair and it has to be late, really late, or really early, when he feels Jace stir. He opens bleary eyes and sits up to look at him properly. He looks better, the colour's returned to his face, his eyes are brighter if tired. He doesn't move his hand away from where it's resting under Alec's, but he tries sitting up too fast and winces, gingerly pressing his other hand to his wounded side.

"Careful," Alec tells him, knowing his voice still sounds strained and worried.

"It's okay. I'm fine," he says, propping himself up more slowly on the pillows.

"You almost _died_ ," he says shakily.

Jace looks him in the eyes then, says, "Hey, it's okay. It's not —"

"No, I should've — I should've done something — That's why I —" That's the reason he's here, to keep him safe. He's failing, he knows, failing at the one thing he promised himself he'd always do.

"Alec, _don't_ ," he says firmly. "It was _my_ fault. You told me not to. I deserved it."

"You don't —" He wants to hit something, suddenly, wants to kiss him again, madly — maybe _then_ he'll know, know that Alec can't live without him, that he'd rather take the pain of being this close to him and never having him every day for a hundred years instead of that.

"Hey, I won't — I won't do it again," Jace tells him, sounding unsure for the first time, sounding younger and more vulnerable than he probably ever has. "I'll try to listen to you. I promise."

It feels empty and they both know it. It's just a temporary salve. A week from now, he'll be out there doing the exact same thing. _He's going to die_ , Alec realises, like a fist closing around his heart. _Before he's old._ He's always been terrified that he was going to ruin it and Jace was going to leave, just as suddenly as he arrived into his life, like it's all been a cruel mistake, a precious gift he wasn't ever meant to keep, like he never deserved it in the first place. This feels even more _wrong_. He'd do anything, for him to be happy. Maybe he'd even let him go if it came to that.

"Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if you didn't come here. If my parents didn't take you in," he says quietly after a moment passes.

"I think you would've been fine," Jace says, earnestly.

He shakes his head. "Maybe I would've been, eventually. Maybe just doing _this_ would've been enough. But something would've always been missing. Even if I didn't know what it was."

"Alec — you're not. This isn't all there is," he says, simply. "Not for you."

"What do you mean?" he asks with narrowed eyes.

"I mean, you could have a life. A real life. Love someone," he adds quietly. "For real." He says it like the idea's something strange and mythical, and maybe it is for him.

It makes his stomach turn over, imagining leaving Jace alone, imagining someone else coming in between this.

He's about to say, _I'm never going to want anyone else_ , but Jace has already drifted back into unconsciousness. He strokes his hand lightly one more time before he pulls away but he doesn't leave the room.

He thinks about the story Jace told him when they were kids, about his father and his pet falcon. Thinks about Jace letting him and Isabelle in when no one else could breach his almost impenetrable walls — but maybe it wasn't enough to save him from the fate he'd already assigned himself: to become a cold, unfeeling weapon, to go out in a blaze of glory as long as he took enough demons with him. Alec's never going to have him, for so many reasons: because love is weakness, because love means death, because Jace loves him but not like that, never like that.

When he wakes up, he doesn't remember, or he pretends not to.

*

Isabelle takes them to a Downworlder party for Alec's eighteenth birthday.

"Live a little," she says with a roll of her dark eyes before she stalks off in the direction of a group of fey, her dress iridescent under the strobing lights.

Jace wraps a warm arm around his shoulders, smiling way too contentedly considering the company they're in, and presses a drink into his hand. "She's right, you know," he says in a low whisper.

Alec smiles back at him tentatively before ducking his head, taking a sip of the drink. It's bitter, but he follows it with another anyway.

*

Jace half-drags, half-carries him into his room and before he can lead him over to the bed, Alec shoves him up against the door and presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

" _Alec_ ," Jace says, quiet but urgent, hands curling into his shoulders. "You don't want to —"

He pulls back a few inches to look up at his face and his lips are slightly parted and wet like he's run his tongue between them and his eyes are intent and fierce, like he's going into battle, burning gold like angelic fire.

"I _want_ to," he assures him. He closes his eyes and leans in to kiss him, once, slowly, thoroughly, tasting the lime and tequila on his tongue, knowing they both probably taste the same right now.

He unbuckles Jace's belt, unzips his fly, and gets on his knees. 

Jace fists his hands in his hair, not too tightly but firm, anchoring him there, and he throws his head back against the door, lets out a long, low sigh.

He mouths at him through the thin cotton of his briefs, feeling him start to respond, rubs his thumb over where he can feel all the hot blood rushing a few times, until he's hard when he takes him in his hand. He feels a sudden twitch, hears Jace stifle a swear, and meets his eyes again.

He's breathing hard, strands of hair falling messily into his eyes, but he manages a small nod.

He pulls his underwear halfway down his thighs, quickly, gracelessly, and breathes wetly over the head, runs his tongue over the length, before putting his mouth around him. It doesn't take long, just a few fast, sloppy slides of his lips, before Jace is coming with a sharp, cut-off moan in his mouth.

When it's over and he's breathing evenly again, Jace yanks his pants back up and turns his head away. "Um, do you want —"

"No, I — I'm too drunk to — It's fine —" he tells him, getting to his feet, head still light and swimming, from alcohol, from adrenaline, from Jace kissing him back.

"Okay, I —" He pauses like he's considering saying something more, hand on the doorknob. "Night, then," he says quietly, before slipping out of the room. 

Alec collapses onto his bed and into blissful nothingness.

He can almost convince himself it was a dream afterwards.

*

Clary Fairchild waltzes into the Institute and into their lives and wrecks _everything_.

"It's not true," he says, helplessly, pointlessly, because Jace already knows — he _has_ to know. But there's a difference between that silent, unacknowledged truth living in the shadows between them and this sudden, shattering exposure, throwing it into the light. He feels like he's been ripped open and his insides are pouring out onto the floor for everyone to see.

This is it. There's no going back from this now. It's all over.

And then it almost is over for real — but he wakes up, wakes up like he did that first night in the infirmary, only now Alec can't look at him. Can't bear to feel his accusing, betrayed eyes on him. He's tainted it irrevocably, he realises, he's made it impure, made it something it never was supposed to be. He deserves it, deserves all the disasters that are probably coming his way, for wanting things he's always known were never meant to be his. For _feeling_ , too strongly, too selfishly. But he knows the people he loves are going to get caught in the crossfire. He doesn't know if he can ever forgive himself for that.

*

They save Clary and Jace forgives him, tells him it's fine, it wasn't his fault, and he hates it, how easy it is for him to brush things away when he doesn't want to face them. He was grateful for it, for a long time, but he's tired. Tired of pretending when they both know better.

"You know what it meant," he tells him as he turns to leave.

"What?" Jace asks, confused, looking back at him.

"You know what the memory meant."

"Are we still talking about this —"

"You know that I love you. You know I'm _in_ love with you," he says, all in a rush before he can swallow it back down.

Jace sighs heavily. 

"Alec —"

"No, _don't_. I know that you've always known. And you never said anything because you didn't want to hurt me. But it — it hurts anyway. It hurts _every day_."

"Alec," he says, resting a gentle hand on his neck, tilting his head up. "Listen to me."

"I know what you're going to say, so you don't have to —" he says, shaking his head, voice choked and raw. He can almost feel his heart already starting to break. He can almost hear him saying the words, with the quiet tenderness he's only ever shared with a privileged few that will somehow make it even worse: _I love you, but I can't love you like that. Not ever._

"You're not in love with me. I know it must be confusing for you, but — This isn't — It isn't what you think it is," he says, apologetically, almost regretfully.

"You don't get to — I'd do _anything_ for you, Jace," he tells him fervently. "But you don't get to tell me how I feel."

"Tell me, then," Jace says patiently. "Tell me how you feel."

"I just — I just want _this_. I want it to go back to how it was," he says quietly. _Just the two of us. When we didn't need anything else._

Jace was the first real friend he had outside of his sister, back when he didn't think he even knew how to talk to other kids his age. The first person he _chose_ to love, the only person. And it never felt like a risk then; it felt real and right and true. In his bones, in his blood. It was easy with Jace; he felt like family from the very first moment. He doesn't know what he'd do if he ever lost that.

"Alec, I love you. I _do_. I meant that. And that's never going to change. But you need to let go. At least a little. We both do. Otherwise, we're just going to be _stuck_."

Alec takes a deep breath, nods at him, before bowing his head, accepting it deep down inside of him. It feels like releasing a heavy weight he's been carrying in his chest. Feels like he can breathe again.

Jace pulls him closer, presses a soft kiss to his cheek, says, "I know it's scary. But I want you to be happy. We all do."

Alec closes his eyes, body flooding with warmth, feels something fit itself back together inside of him, something he thought he broke a long time ago.

*

Magnus calls the next day, says, "Do you want to have a drink sometime?"

He considers it for all of five seconds.

"Okay. When?" he answers, his blood thrilling with the new possibility.


End file.
